Elfrida wasn't designed to
please the public of the magazines--in England."
When Janet reflected afterward upon what had struck her
as being odd about this remark of her father's, she found
it was Elfrida's name. It seemed to have escaped him; he
had never referred to her in that way before--which was
a wonder, Janet assured herself, considering how constantly
he heard it from her lips.
"How does the novel come on?" Mr. Cardiff asked before
she went to bed that night. "When am I to be allowed to
see the proofs?"
"I finished the nineteenth chapter yesterday," Janet
answered, flushing. "It will only run to about twenty-three.
It's a very little one, daddy."
"Still nobody in the secret but Lash and Black?"
"Not a soul I hope they're the right people," Janet said
anxiously. "I haven't even told Elfrida," she added. "I
want to surprise her with an early copy. She'll like it,
I think. I like it pretty well myself. It has an effective
leading idea."
Her father laughed, and threw her a line of Horace which
she did not understand. "Don't let it take too much time
from your other work," he warned her. "It's sure, you
know, to be an arrant imitation of somebody, while in
your other things you have never been anybody but yourself.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246